Young Master
by Sonea66
Summary: When I opened my eyes for the first time in my new exictence, I knew it. This time would be different. I'd come out on top. AU, SLASH, OMC/HP, first fic
1. YM, Prolologue

_**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J. and various publishers. I am in no way trying to make profit with it.**_

**_Warnings:_**_ Child Abuse, atempted Rape, Character Death, SLASH, M/M, voilence, mentions of sex, might have a lemon or two, and various others_

_Please note, English isn't my native language._

**Prologue**

Shuttering breathing could be heard coming from the deepest depths of Gringotts, the main branch. How long had I been lying here, on the verge of life and death? I know this won't keep on for long anymore. My emotions are strangely conflicted over that fact. I have been holding on to life for so long, it seems like a relief to finally be letting go, but I have been going on for so long, have so much still to be done, so much to regret. But there is nothing that can be done now, so I wait.

A strange possession strode down the long, unadorned hallway of the wizarding bank, to a newly constructed hall, made for this purpose only. With them was the delirious Savior, fighting for a few more seconds even in the end. The group itself was not something one sees every day; in fact it hasn't happened since the first Goblin wars, for there were dementors, goblins, elves of all kinds and some of the dying race of panthera. They had been disgusted with how the wizarding world had treated their Savior. It began harmless enough, but quickly escalated. Dirty rumors, proclamations of him going dark, mobsters chasing him down and finally Azkaban. Not that he stayed there long. No, he was more than just a wizarding hero. He had taken the time to learn the languages of any and all magical creatures, learning of them and their customs in a manor unheard of from magical people. He had worked with all his might on getting reasonable laws and living arrangements for them. He was claimed by races of all kinds as one of their own. That's why they were here. They had worked together for years in order to get this far. They were going to use some of the most obscure, dark blood magic.

Ragnarok, king of Goblins, and father in all but blood to the dying man, went to the hero's side and grasped his hand. Softer than anybody had ever heard the feared leader speak, he told the poor man of what they had planned for him. Too weak to object or agree, he only closed his eyes in acceptance. With that they stepped into the hall, for it was too big to be anything but. The whole ground was filled with runes, circles and foreign languages in chalk, blood and carvings. Candles were all over the place, placed with precision, not one out of place.

I strained my senses, forcing them to awareness, trying to understand what was happening. There was Ragnarok, I knew. He was the only goblin around, I think. Then there were the panthera, at least six, probably seven, a more magical number. I am amazed. How did they get so many of the dying races to participate? Was I that important to them? I am so touched; I think I cried a tear or two. I think I heard Caladrièl, a good Elvin friend of mine. He was in a group of at least ten, maybe fifteen? Fourteen more likely. Another great feat. The proud and dignified Elvin races hadn't left their hideout since… Well, very long. I feel the chill of the dementors, awakening bad memories better left forgotten. I am not quite sure of their number. They walk near soundless and talk close to never. Usually one recognizes them by their breathing, but my own breath is so difficult now, I could be counted as one of them. I can feel myself growing distant. So distant, I can't seem to follow the beginning chant in Gobbledygook, or the chant of the pantheras in their own language, beginning shortly after. Soon the many elvintounges with their beautiful twists and turns could be heard, along with the chilling sound of the dementors seldom used voices. Every now and then a splatter sounded in the hall, and the iron scent of blood hung thick in the air. The chanting reached a crescendo and the magic began working, tickling my skin. Before I knew it, it was over and I was gone.

Slowly I opened my eyes. It was dark. It was warm. I felt safe.


	2. YM, Ch 1, Birth

_**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J. and various publishers. I am in no way trying to make profit with it.**_

**Chapter 1, Birth**

For those blissfully unaware, probably the majority, I was sent to an alternate dimension, newly created with minimal differences, to the time of my birth. Or, at least, that was the plan. It didn't take me long to realize I travelled even further back in time and ended up in my mother's womb, by my guess mere weeks after my creation.

In the eight months till my birth, besides being bored stiff, I had a lot of time to think. I thought about my future, what I wanted out of my life, to archive. After a lot of time considering my past life, clearing my mind and coming to terms with everything I tried to deny before. It turns out _oblivate_1does not in fact erase the memory in question, but blocks it. Since no magic outside the ritual could reach me here, any _oblivations_, _compulsions _and other magic's affecting the mind lost effect upon arrival here. Turns out there were a lot of things about my life I was unaware of. It also seems I was smarter than I was given credit for, just couldn't organize my thoughts properly, which was also why I had so much trouble concerning _Occlumency_2_,_ because my mind was so messed up. But I decided to stop mulling that over! I decided that this would be a clean start. This second chance would not be wasted; I'd live without hesitation or regret. I also wanted to repay the Races for everything they had done for me; this was everything I could have wished for. Of course there was still Voldemort, the corrupt ministry and manipulative Dumbledore, but one couldn't have everything. Another of my regrets of my past life was the fact that I never reached my full potential, my limit, never tried. That would change; I wouldn't stay in an illusion of being contend. The thrill of learning something new, getting better, improving oneself was something I just discovered shortly before my imprisonment, and consequently my slow death from poison, far too late in life. But I didn't have that problem this time, did I? Aside from that, I was determined to find love in this round, no matter what, because that was a luxury I had never truly had. Sure I had some friends, but over half of them betrayed me. And yes, I was loved by Mum, Dad, Padfoot and Moony, but that I mostly remember only as blurry outlines, an felt alien to neglected little me. Never could I just completely trust myself to somebody, and that was one of my most desperate wishes. But I have patience, had to learn it, being imprisoned in my own mind and body, and now the womb of my mother.

Another thing mentionable is the fact that the ritual that brought me here apparently also included a blood adoption of sorts, which, as far as I have discovered, granted me the empathetic abilities of dementors3 and fused my already existing mind with the number based one of the goblins, which made math, something I, in my past, always found myself lacking in, incredibly easy. I couldn't wait to start at Arithmancy4, ironic, considering that was one of the few things, aside from fan girls, that I avoided like the plague in the other dimension. I am guessing that any other changes are physical or magical, hopefully nothing too drastic.

A lot of my time was spent harnessing my newfound empathy. It was somehow like a new sense, reminding of a mix of hearing and touch, and feeling the feelings yourself in a detached kind of way. It became a kind of game to know at all times who was there, how was he feeling and why was that. I was compelled to know at all times what was going on on the outside.

We find ourselves in the master bedroom of Potter Manor, a grand and luxurious chamber, decorated in earthly colors, with one Lily Potter nee Evans going into labor, one James Potter looking stressed and trying to be there for his wife and a distinctly ruffled looking medi-witch named Domilda Root doing what's in her job description. We listen to the only redhead among them (because Domilda is blond) shout profanities, threats and vulgarities at the poor man, which would leave the most life hardened seaman blushing, and made the three members of the male species listening in on them from the hallway wince in sympathy. It comes to no surprise to us, that the target of such words rapidly paling. The other witch (yes, the blond one), used to such patients, proceeded with all that needs doing without hesitance, though secretly she is impressed and slightly terrified by the imagination shown by the birthing woman.

The birth was a difficult one, stretching over many hours, but both mother and child came thru alive and healthy.

When I opened my eyes for the first time in my new existence, I knew it. This time would be different. I'd come out on top. Elated at simply being there and breathing, I watched the witch, I recognized her emotional aura as the medi-witch, fuss over me. She worried about my quiet behavior, I could tell. Finally I was given to my mother. Her first words in my presence were, and I quote: `what is wrong with my baby boy?!` . I was quite insulted, but that quickly melted away, and soon all I had all but forgotten my earlier feelings, too busy being adored and adoring in return. I had never felt so loved before. It was an amazing feeling. I observed everybody, which includes all Marauders, coo over me, trying to get me to smile. And I did. I think I was on an all time high, grinning like a lunatic.

I waited impatiently for my baby. Whatever she did, it shouldn't take this long! Finally, there she comes! Immediately my eyes zoomed on to his eyes, only distantly noting they seemed to be glowing, and shrieked scared:"What is wrong with my baby boy?!" The witch was quick to reassure me, no, nothing was wrong, yes, this was perfectly normal. "So like I said, this is simply a creature inheritance manifesting early on, and totally harmless. Usually it's an advantage." 'Now that she mentions it, I did see better than I ever remember seeing with glasses, hopefully it lasts. Actually, all of my senses got boosted, it seems. It was probably the fault of my Panthera5- and Elvinblood.' "No spell I know of can define what creature heritage it is. I am sorry I couldn't be of further help. So, as I was saying…" It was at this time I stopped paying attention, only listening with half an ear. Instead I moved on to expecting my baby, admiring what I brought into this world. I never heard James gasp, so mesmerized was I with the little thing. It was gorgeous! Simply beautiful. The face was already angular, and one could already imagine what it would look like when grown up. Its ears seemed to grow slightly pointy in the ends, giving it a Elvin appearance. Elegantly arched eyebrows framed the most breathtaking avada green eyes, still glowing in an unearthly fashion, clearly not imagined. They had an intimidating and unsettling quality, making it difficult to look him in the eyes, and at the same time had a hypnotizing allure which seemed to draw you in and demanded attention. I was sure once he learned enough expression he would be able to send somebody cower or seduce one with just a look. The whole look was finished with a tuff of pitch black hair, seeming to draw the shadows to it. Wait a minute! Did that woman just tell me this otherworldly creature is my _son_?! Not believing her for a second, I removed part of the snow-white blanket and checked myself. James seemed to have similar doubts as he came to my side, took the boy from me and without much fuss checked himself. For a moment I thought it gave us an indignant look, but chalked it up to my imagination. Before my husband could start a rant about who knew what I pinched him. Hard. Soon Moony, Padfoot and Wormtail were with us, cooing at the cuteness, beauty and simple breathtakingness of my baby. That and double checking to make sure he's still a boy. The boy himself was strangely quiet, not making a sound, observing us with intelligence making shivers go down my spine.

Would you stop ogling my private parts! What are they talking about now? My name? I won't be called Harry? Good, that got boring anyway! What do you mean it doesn't fit? I don't look too different, do I?

By Merlin, can it be so difficult to find a simple name? You've been at it for the last hour! "Alright, let's compromise! We all get to decide a name for him, and that's final!" I don't know if I should be horrified by the prospect of having more names than Albus freaking Dumbledore, or terribly amused.'

In the end I was named, and that is black on white and filed, Avis Alexzandri Anima Antonio Libertas Potter6. I burst into spontaneous fits of giggles for days after that.

The first months of my new life were peaceful, almost disappointingly so, if not a little frustrating. My body needed a lot of rest and nourishment. I couldn't talk either, though I kept practicing in order to develop my vocal chords and tongue. I am planning to start on walking as soon as I can. On a more positive note, I soaked up any love offered like a sponge.

At the end of the third month came Dumbledore and he told us a slightly different prophecy:

_**The one with the power to vanquish the lords approaches…**_

_**Born to those who have thrice defied the dark one, born as the seventh month dies…**_

_**And the light one will mark him as his equal, as the dark one makes him his own…**_

_**But he will have power the lords know not...**_

_**And either must die at the wand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives...**_

I had kind of hoped to avoid prophecies this time around, so I decided to do the responsible thing, and ignored it all together! Having chosen a course of action, I put it out of my mind. Alas, it was not to be, we went into hiding. I tried anything to get them to not choose Peter as the secret keeper, and succeeded too. They chose Remus, after I succeeded in making them believe his innocence. Everybody seemed to adore me, and soon one was sure to find at least two Marauders at all times at my side. Even Peter, whom I made distinctly clear I _didn't_ like, seemed to be there at least once every two days.

Time ran, and soon my second Halloween came around. I was surprised to find, no Voldemort came blasting thru the door. No, it was Sirius. "Prongs! I've thought about this long and hard, and decided, I want to magically adopt your son!" Everybody chose to stare. And stare some more. "What?" came the indignant voice of my godfather" I made a vow to stay bachelor for life, and somebody needs to spend all that money once I'm dead! Besides, Antonio here is so precious, he deserves the world!" At this point he chose to coo over me some more, after which he applied then, after years of practice polished to perfection, the feared puppy eyes. I was learning it from him at this time, and knew to respect what he made an art, looking cute and pitiful. Its effect was once again proven, as already after three minutes he brought them to cave. It so came, that I found myself in a freshly drawn rune circle, hearing a chant in Greek, and I wonder why it is Greek, and feeling my magic shift and expand, fitting the already existing properties warp themselves to fit some more. My magic was divided now, one half, from my Potter and muggleborn roots, and the Elvin and Goblin blood, who despite popular believe are Light, firmly in the white, and the other half, from the Black adoption, the Dementor and Panthera blood, who despite many people's faulty knowledge are Dark creatures, firmly in the black, both sides play fighting with each other, intervining with each other, but never truly mixing. That was the first time I got a picture of my magical core. In the future it would become a common sight.

Life went on, and I almost dared to hope that this time around my precious people would be spared. It still came to little surprise when any tentative hopes were shattered in the making: Four months before my second birthday it happened, Remus went missing. Everybody was distressed, or at least seemed to be in Wormtails case. Snuffles, who we left to believe that Peter was the one entrusted with our safety, like he suggested, was confused about the reason that Moony of all people was chosen as target, but for me it was clear: the rat told Tom who was the secret keeper, probably being _crucioed_7 as reward. We stayed in a deadlock for a whole week, hoping for something, anything, to happen. And it did. On the eight of April, in future years to be celebrated as _Electus dies of salus, _or in short, _Salus dies_, meaning Chosen day of salvation and Salvation day, also in the further time elected as the national wizarding day.

In the burning remains of a once cozy cottage, in the peaceful neighborhood of Godric's Hollow, lies the solemn baby of one Lily Potter nee Evans, deceased, and one James Potter, deceased. Little Alexzandri was right now recovering from an emotional breakdown, trying to process what just happened. It had been a perfectly normal, if strained, evening. I was just about to be put to bed whe_n he came, attention seeking and loud as ever, blasting open the door with a well placed _Reducto7 _aimed at the hinges. The Father, already tight strung, was at his feet in an instant, wand in hand, shouting for us to flee. After a short, bittersweet, farewell with declarations of love, the child and its mother were up the stairs .Desperately the woman tried everything. Apparation_7_, floo_8_, portkey_9_, nothing worked. The shouts of curses and spells died down, ending with the final thump of a fallen body, a sound the 25 year old caged in a toddlers body would never forget. Anxiously the desperate pair listened to the telltale sounds of somebody moving up the stairs and moving down the hallway. But this is not just anybody; this was Tom Marvolo Riddle, Slytherin's heir, Lord Voldemort. With a simple _Alohomora10_, Lily too panicked to put up any of the advanced locking spells and wards, that young Avis __**knew**__ she had there somewhere in her pretty head. The poor widow was so terrified, her wand arm shaking with uncontrolled fear, she was unable to say even one spell. All that came over her lips were pleas. Pleas for her child's life, her own life, for mercy. Rather than brave, she was too scared to register his order to stand aside, too sure of her own death to understand his offer to let her live. And the ever impatient dark lord ended her with a well practiced _Avada Kedavra11_. Painstakingly collecting himself and locking all emotions away with well practiced mind magicks, the target of the man asked one of the more pressing questions: "Uncle Moo'y?" It came to no surprise for the almost 2 year old when he got an answer, knowing the Riddle almost as good as himself. "The wolf?" A small nod encouraged him to continue. "He is dead. He was damn stubborn too, not talking for a whole week. I had my best torture experts at him, working non-stop. I just got him to speak this morning. I disposed of him after he lost his worth." The boy's shields almost broke, and a lone tear travelled down the smooth cheek. As fast as the emotion came it disappeared._

_I was intrigued. This child, just recently having learned to walk and speak, instilled a lot of feelings in him. For one there was respect, the little one had just lost his parents, and seemed disturbingly calm. Then there was something akin to awe, of the beauty of the creature's sheer breathtaking, unique appearance. And there was something akin to lust, just because of the enticing power rolling of the not-guite-human at his feet, not dark, not light, and still not grey. It almost seemed to be trying to be seducing anyone who cared to look. And then there was the composure he showed just sitting there, calm for the world to see. No, this being in front of him deserved better than death. What to do though?_

Now calmed down Anima thought back to the happenings of this night. Yes, Voldemort killed his father, and yes, he killed his mother, too, but no, that wasn't what he had not intended for me to die, not after seeing me. _I once again found myself in a rune circle; it seemed to happening a lot lately, this one slightly more intricate than the last one, the intend still similar. A family adoption, used today by purebloods unable to reproduce a heir, a fusion between a magical and blood adoption. I sat in the middle of the chalk scribbles, regretting never having taken the class for it, in a full body bind. At first I panicked, not knowing what was going to happen, but as soon as the blood began to burn in my veins, I calmed down. I saw the profit of being part of the ancient bloodlines of Slytherin and Gaunt. Had I known at the time what the implications of finishing the ritual were, it probably would have ended in accidental magic, for had the undoubtly Dark magic of Tom merged with my already existing magic, the delicate balance of Light and Dark would be disturbed and fall together, leaving me magically disturbed, in worst case scenario a squib, and with a destroyed immune system, shortening my life by at least thirty years. Fortunately that did not happen, because exactly between the first part of the ritual, the blood adoption, and the second part, the magic adoption, came Dumbledore storming in, in all his hot pink glory, not forgetting the rubber ducks. Taking in the situation in one second, he sent the killing curse at the back of the heir of the snake line, who was conveniently turned away from the door. Years of training kicked in, and the dark lord narrowly avoided the curse, forgetting the baby in the spur of the moment, and with it that it was sitting right in front of him, with the _Petrificus Totalus12 _cast on him, sitting right in the curse's way. As it so was, he had no chance of moving out of the way, ending in the predictable situation of the spell hitting the unintended target of the baby's heart. Voldemort, having righted himself after the narrow dodge, positioned himself in front of the forgotten child. Something he would regret deeply. The conflicting magicks of the unfinished ritual, the curse and the innate magic of the lithe Potter did not war for long, rebounding the _Avada Kedavra _and hitting Tom, in the way of it and its caster, in the back, casting him out of his body. Side effects included a two way link to the dark lord,like in the dimension of our main character, and the transfer of his _parseltounge13_ ability, a one way connection to the light lord, and the transfer of his _aura reading14_ ability, anchored in the scar of a blood dripping rose, direct over the heart of the poor orphan._

'_This will not do, not at all. Tom was supposed to cast the killing curse after Lily's sacrifice. What to do, what to do? Of course, nobody has to know of the happenings going on here tonight!' The old man directed his wand to the small head of Libertus, casting a quick _Oblivate_, followed by many different memory charms. 'Should just place the magical block right now and get it over with…' And he did just that. Too bad he never bothered to check the affectivity of his charm work, else he might have realized that the baby had too strong mental defenses for memory charms to work, and too bad he never threw a last glance at the toddler, because he would have seen the magic of it flash, shaking off the newly placed block, because, even at the tender age of one, it had more magical powers than the strongest wizard of this age, and one could not block one with more power than oneself. Too bad he had so much confidence in himself, he never once doubted himself, after all, he was Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore._

The sound of feet on ashes snapped the little one out of his musings. Wanting to be found, he started to cry for the somebody invading his parents' place of death. That somebody turned out to be Sirius, grief stricken and furious. The boy tried to explain to the Black that Peter wasn't the secret keeper, but Remus. When he didn't seem to listen, he tried to impress upon him the importance of caring for him in his time of need, but even that made him hesitate only so long. Taking one of the heavier guns, he threw his first ever temper tantrum. The shocked Padfoot in return tried to impress _him _with the importance of revenging ones friends. The Potter almost snorted. Seeing that there was no reasoning with the animagus15, he took his last resort: puppy eyes, something I was almost as good at as the target of it right now. He faltered, cracked, and Harry almost had him, when Hagrid arrived, and took the choice from him. "Let's take ya to Dumbledor', he?" came the overly happy comment from the keeper of keys of Hogwart. Avis never wanted to hex him that bad.

With one last look at the ruins of the once cozy cottage in the peaceful neighborhood of Godric's Hollow, they sped off on a borrowed magical motorbike.

1 Oblivate - Obliviate is a term meaning 'forget'. Obliviate is a memory charm, resulting in the blockage of the recipient's memory

2 Occlumency - Occlumency is the act of magically closing one's mind against Legilimency. It can prevent a Legilimens from accessing one's thoughts and feelings, or influencing them

3 Dementor - The Dementors are soulless creatures considered to be among the foulest beasts on Earth. They are soul-sucking fiends who, as their name suggests, dement people who encounter them for too long. They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban

4 Arithmancy - Arithmancy is a branch of magic concerned with the magical properties of numbers. Arithmancy is reportedly difficult, as it requires memorizing or working with large number charts

5 Panthera - A race of shape shifters, shifting primarily into wild cats, sometimes canines. Even when not in their animal form, one can usually identify them by animal ears, tail, claws, fangs and eyes.

6 Avis Alexzandri Anima Antonio Libertas Potter - Avis - Means 'bird' in Latin

Alexzandri - Is a variant of the Greek name Alexandros, meaning 'defending men' from Greek _αλεξω__ (alexo)_ 'to defend, help' and _ανηρ__ (aner)_ 'man'

Anima - Means 'soul' in Latin

Antonio - Means 'priceless' in Italian

Potter - Potter is the surname of an old wizarding family. They were once pure-bloods, but James Potter married Muggle-born witch Lily Evans, thus making their son halfblood. The Potters have traditionally been sorted into Gryffindor house at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and are very wealthy, with a vault at Gringotts Wizarding Bank containing a great deal of gold

7 Apperation - Apparition is a magical method of transportation, and is basically magical teleportation, having the user focus on a desired location in their mind, then disappear from their current location and instantly reappear at their desired location. It is by far the fastest way to get to one's desired destination, but is tricky to pull off correctly and disastrous if botched up. According to Wilkie Twycross, Ministry of Magic official and Apparition Instructor, one has but to recall _The Three D's_: Destination, Determination and Deliberation. One must be completely _determined_ to reach one's _destination_, and move without haste, but with _deliberation_.

Apparition is a very popular method of travel, though brooms or portkeys may be preferred, as the feeling of Apparition can be unpleasant to some. According to Harry Potter, Apparition feels like being "forced through a very tight rubber tube."

Apparition can cause an audible noise ranging from a small, faint, pop to a loud crack that will sound to Muggles like a car backfiring.

8 Floo - The Floo Network is governed by the Department of Magical Transportation of the Ministry of Magic. This department is located on Level Six of the Ministry. The network is overseen by the Floo Regulation Panel, which controls which fireplaces are connected to the Floo Network. This cannot be done without specialized magic.

This network connects all wizarding fireplaces that utilise Floo powder as a mode of transportation. Muggle homes are not connected to the Floo Network unless special, temporary arrangements are made, which do not require that the Authority visit the location. The connection can be made from the Ministry of Magic.

To access the network, one must toss a handful of Floo Powder into a fireplace, walk into the heatless, green fire, and declare the desired destination. It is apparently also important for the traveller to keep their elbows close to their body. During the trip, the traveller will notice other fireplaces and hearths zooming past, but it is not possible for the traveller to see these locations clearly as the speed of travel is too great. One may also use the Floo Network to speak to someone in another location by merely putting their head through the green fire.

9 Portkey - A Portkey is an object enchanted to bring anyone who touches it to a specific location. Most of the time, a Portkey is an everyday object that would not draw the attention of a Muggle. Travelling by Portkey is said to feel like having a hook "somewhere behind the navel" pulling the traveller to their location.

Portkeys have an advantage over Floo powder in that they may transport many people at once, but each Portkey can only transport its users to one destination. Unlike Apparition, Portkeys may also be used by anyone, possibly even Muggles, though there are no known instances of this occurring. Portkeys travel to the destination along with their users. With some Portkeys, touching it again transports the users back to their original location. Others, however, can be handled after their use without effect.

Some Portkeys are preset to travel to their destinations at a specific time

10 Alohomora - _Alohomora_ is a charm that opens locks. It is also able to open doors locked by _Colloportus_16. Some unknown spells make locked doors impervious to _Alohomora_.

From the West African Sidiki dialect used in geomancy meaning: _Friendly to thieves_

11 Avada Kedavra - Avada Kedavra is a spell that causes instantaneous death and is one of the three Unforgivable Curses. There is no known counter-curse or cure for it; however, one may dodge the green bolt, use a physical barrier to block it, or intercept the bolt with another spell. An explosion or green fire may result if the spell hits something other than a living target. Lord Voldemort was famous for using this curse regularly and indiscriminately. Its incantation is _Avada Kedavra_

_Avada Kedavra_ is based on the Aramaic עַבְדָא כְּדַברָא, _avda kedavra_, meaning "what was said has been done." This phrase is also the origin of _abracadabra_, which, like _hocus pocus_, is used by magicians as a magic word when they perform tricks

12 Petrificus Totalus - The Full Body-Bind Curse, or usually simply called "Full Body-Bind", is a spell that renders a victim completely immobile. This curse is chiefly used to control and limit another individual's power of bodily freedom, and is often employed in defensive combat. The victim's arms and legs snap together, and he or she will generally fall down from lack of balance. The curse does not, however, interfere with breathing or sight. The countercurse is _Finite_ or _Finite Incantatem_.

The root of this curse's incantation seems to be the Latin words _petra_, "rock", and _totus_, "whole" or "entire".

Also, pertrificus seems to come from the word "petrify", meaning to turn into stone, or describes a manner in which someone takes on the characteristics of a stone. Totalus likely comes from "Total", meaning complete or wholly. Following this, the spell likely means, petrif_y like an entire stone_.

13 Parseltounge - Parseltongue is the language of serpents (as well as other magical creatures, like the Runespoor) and those who can converse with them. An individual who can speak Parseltongue is known as a Parselmouth. It is a very uncommon skill, and may be hereditary. Nearly all known Parselmouths are descended from Salazar Slytherin.[1]

The ability to speak Parseltongue is considered an attribute of a Dark Wizard, which is partly due to the fact that both Salazar Slytherin and Lord Voldemort possessed this ability. Another notable Dark Wizard who was also a Parselmouth was Herpo the Foul.

14 Aura reading – Also called Magic Sight. As the name suggests, it makes otherwise invisible magic visible to the one with the gift.

15 Animagus - An **Animagus** (pl. _Animagi_) is a witch or wizard who can morph him or herself into a specific animal at will. It is a learned, rather than hereditary, skill

16 Colloportus - _Colloportus_ is a spell that seals a door so that it cannot be opened manually. The spell appears to create a temporary physical obstacle, and is probably most useful against Muggles.

_Colloportus_ comes from the Latin words _colligo, colligere_, 'to bring/gather/keep together', and _portus_.


	3. YM, Ch 2, Dursley

_**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J. and various publishers. I am in no way trying to make profit with it.**_

**Chapter 2, Dursley**

The next morning I was awoken very rudely with a shrill scream, courtesy of Mrs. Dursley. All thought of going back to sleep was abandoned when Vernon Dursley, the man of the house, came thundering down the stairs, and started a shouting match with his wife. My beloved uncle, note the sarcasm, was a rather obese man the size of a walrus, going on baby elephant, whose five double chins made an impressive figure, only enhanced by his big moustache, looking very English. Blond hair and piggy eyes completed the picture, though rather unpleasant to look at. Aunt Petunia however, my mother's sister, was rather thin with little curves, an absurdly long neck, dirty blond hair and watery blue eyes. She was the opposite of her husband, though not much more pleasant to look at. Together they were the parents of a son, born on June 23, 1980, who, one could tell already, was going to be the splitting image of his father, with the eyes of his mother. A perfectly normal, if slightly ugly, family. What wasn't normal was what was found on their doorstep. Like Petunia said: "It even looks freakish!" Not at all normal. But, probably because of carefully veiled threats, found in a letter in the hands of myself, I, or rather 'the freak', as I was already called, would be allowed to stay. It might have had something to do with the express permission to abuse and neglect me.

Soon I discovered that my second stay at the Dursleys would be different from the first. They started me on my old chores faster, and gave me more than ever before. My cupboard under the stairs wasn't mine anymore, I had to share it with the cleaning supplies. Beatings were brutal and often drawn out. More often than not one found bruises on my person, and the older I got, the worse my life at the Dursleys got. The worst thing was, I couldn't do anything. I had the power, but not the means to access it. I had no wand, no strength, no connections. I was helpless. So I started trying to learn wandless magic, something I knew was possible. In the beginning it didn't take me long to get results, though they usually left me tired out. After three months of continued trying and no improvements, shortly after my third birthday, I decided to try a new approach: Meditation. The first times I always ended up in my mind, which seemed to be a wall to ward off anything which might harm what is behind it. Unable to find a way around it, I started to roam my mind, examining every nook and cranny. It helped me improve my already formidable Occlumency by leaps and bounds!

I was finally sure that I knew my mind like the cupboard under the stairs, and that meant something, when I came by a nondescript wall, nothing unusual in my mind, which was somehow off. I couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, until it hit me: It didn't have the blue veins which signified memories and other similar things. It was totally blank. I stood there for over an hour, trying to figure out why this could be, until finally I tried touching it. Nope, nothing spectacularly different from any other wall. Finding nothing else to do, I tried knocking it. And imagine my surprise when it sounded hollow. After much consideration, I decided to try looking behind it. Without further ado, I imagined a hammer and chisel, and, loo and behold, they appeared in my mindscape. Carefully, I started chiseling at eyelevel. Little pieces of debris flew to the floor, disappearing from my mind before they hit the ground. Before I knew it, a hole the size of a Galleon1 was in the wall. I dropped the tools, never hearing the impact, and took a look. My first thought was something along the lines of 'It's huge!', closely followed by 'What's that light?'. The next few days were spent catering to the Dursleys and making an archway into the other side of the wall. Not long into my work I could recognize that this was what I was looking for: my core.

The room couldn't be called that, it was so big, one couldn't see the end of the space, or even if there was one, in all directions, even the where the ground should be. Bottomless. Hesitantly, I reached out my foot, trying to find solid ground. Experimenting a little, I found out, through trial and error, that I simply had to _want_ to have something solid to be under my feet, and it happened. Slowly, afraid of falling down, I stepped into the nothingness, fascinated by the way it seemed to ripple with every step. Gaining confidence, I made my way to the light, when it caught my eye, that it was not just one light, but seven. Deciding to investigate at a later date, I proceeded to the biggest light, feeling drawn to it, shineing black and white, in the form of a pillar, at least five meter diameter, right in front of me. It looked exactly like my brief memory of it from my second Halloween. Hesitantly, I tried touching it. It felt like liquid, humming beneath my touch. Taking my courage, I stepped inside of it. My first reaction was to panic, thinking I couldn't breathe. Then, after painstakingly calming myself down with the argument that in one's mind one couldn't die, only end up brain dead or irreparably damaged, not very calming, that I went ahead and took a breath. It was kind of disgusting in the beginning, like being force fed some kind of unidentifiable goo, neon green, but then it got exhilarating, because pure _power_ was filling your lungs, traveling to your heart, running through your veins and tickling your toes. It was only comparable with being high while riding on a rollercoaster, but not quite. I couldn't get down from my high for over two hours, conveniently forgetting to breathe in that time, proving my theory of not being able to die while in one's mind, because even when tortured in your head, and receiving fatal wounds, your body goes on like normal, not being damaged. Just like that, morning came, and with that another day of slavery. It was the third of May, 1983, the day of my breakthrough.

When I tried doing wandless magic the night after, safely in my cupboard, changing the color of my threadbare blanket, I was pleasantly surprised to be able to change the color of my pillow as well. It seemed to have gotten a little less tiring. After a couple of more excursions to the 'Space of Cores', as I call it, I was able to establish two theories: For one, the better one knows ones magical core and its flow and pattern, the easier and less wasteful gets the usage of the power. Already I can use eight first year spells before tiring. Second, while I can use both my Dark half and my Light side, mixing them doesn't work, and usually ends explosive. A lesson I will not forget, the scars will not fade from my body.

I went to the Space at least three hours a day, even after a beating, using Occlumency to block out the pain, a useful but risky tool. Over time I grew accustomed to the intoxicating effect of my magic, and though it was still pleasant, as well as a favorite pastime, now I was able to think clearly and focus while in those circumstances. The more intimate I got with the power, the better I came to get acquainted with it, learning to love them both. Light, white, seeming to be laughing, dancing and singing, always gentle and caring, with seemingly infinite amounts of love, a little naïve, enveloping you like a hug. Dark, black, possessive, like a jealous lover, playing the games of lies and deceit, always on the edge of life, merciless and calculating, with an edge of calm, like cold steel.

It got warm, summer came, my birthday went, and with it came more beatings, with alarming brutality and frequency. Before one knew it, it was Halloween of my fourth year, and already I could do up to fifth year spells, though with limited amounts. I discovered that the more time I spend in the cores, the more personality they gain. If this continues, they are going to be sentient by the time of the anniversary of Voldemort's defeat at the latest. In return, I seem to be adopting traits of the magic. The ruthless and cold ways of Black, and the artloving, affectionate side of White. I am planning to teach them to talk when they are intelligent enough.

I've got one of the best Christmases ever! As a treat for myself I decided to quench my curiosity and made a trip to the second nearest core. Examining it, it was yellow, ball shaped, didn't stay still for long and tickled my hand when I touched it. It seemed like the smallest of the cores. For reasons I can't discern, the feeling it gives off is familiar. This time not hesitating, I dived into the power. Suddenly energy seemed to spring up in every cell of my body. I didn't have to look for long to understand this core: it's erratic and uncontrolled, playful and wanton, obnoxious and boisterous, sunny and optimistic, always helpful yet forever restless, a wanderer at heart. But there seemed to be something deeper there, something hidden behind the loud exterior. Lonely, came to mind. It was worth coming back to. It began to dawn on me what this was: Electricity. Elvinblood. Elanû, the power of the Elves, meaning in their general language, Umanahü, one of seven tongues, 'source of life'.2

While my relatives enjoyed a Christmasdinner, I went from Elanû to Elanû, experiencing the carefree and secretiveness of Air, with its sweet and loyal side, always curious and nosy, and though it had a dangerous temper, it was wise as well. I was feeling the strength and comfort of the proud, confident, quiet and controlled Earth, always hardworking. Came in contact with the gentle and peaceful Water, understanding, knowledgeable, nurturing, adaptable and loving, intricate in its own way, treasuring you with its whole being. And second to last, Fire, with its warm and cheerful charm, temperamental personality, destructive urges and wild nature, the maker of beginnings. In the end was the purest form of Elanû, Support, and its protectiveness, and its tendency to tend to everyone it can, honest to the core.

While young Avis flourished in magic, his life in general was looking dark. Food was given less and less, beatings became more frequent and creative, so it took more time to recover from them. Dudley picked up on his parents hate and copied them, using any chance to show him who was the better of the two. Never before had he bothered to learn healing charms, and without knowledge of either spells or anatomy nothing could be done about the wounds. Resolving that in order to remedy that, one had to learn, and in order to learn in a situation such as himself, one had to read, he started to cut short the magic breathing time in order to apperate into the library at night and read. Science mostly, also some medical texts.

Time kept on flying, and winter made space for spring, only for spring to make way for summer. By the time my birthday rolled around my magic had developed two wonderful personalities, and was on the right way to learning speech. It was a constant debate whether I should kill the Dursleys (Black's favorite), run away (White's idea) or wait it out, but in the end I was too stubborn to do anything but stay at the Dursleys and wait for my Hogwarts letter, until they either did something unforgivable, even for my big heart, or I had no other choice.

The Elanû were coming along nicely, getting more defined personalities, extending ones limits. Fire kept me from freezing, Water from thirst, Electricity kept me going when my natural reserves weren't enough anymore, Air kept me from overheating, Support's regenerative powers kept me alive and Earth…well, that kept me entertained, I had a collection of little self made stone figurines in my cupboard. Like with my magic, I started to take on some traits of the other cores: Fluid movement from Water, secretive as Air, as confident as Earth, untamable and wild like Fire in its greatest form, the love for wandering from Elec, as I had taken to calling Electricity, because it's simply too long, and lastly the sense to protect from Support.

It was starting to become impossible to live of the food I was given, and I needed to find an alternate source of food. My stomach hurts so much, I'd eat sawdust. So I started to use magic in order to sneak out at night and steal some food, just enough to survive. The constant burning stays. I hold on, but it is only a matter of time until I am found out.

At age of five, Halloween, my generally miserable life took a change for the better. It all began with a stupid mistake. Rain fell, thunder struck, and it was a downright gloomy day. While the Dursleys were out for a get-together, I went out looking for food. The mood had me thinking about past lives, loss and destiny, and I decided to do something good for myself and took a little bit of meat, not much, just a handful, to roast over my fire. I had to be quick about it; my so called 'family' could come home at any time. All went well, and soon I was sitting in my cramped living space, cooking the first tasteful food since the fateful day of April the eighth. Halfway through my meal of small proportions the car could be heard driving up the driveway. Hasty I stuffed the rest of the meat in my mouth, swallowing barely half chewed nourishment and nearly choking on it. And it worked, in no time I was lying down, looking miserable for the world to see. The door was yanked open and I came face to face with Vernon, noting the rapidly developing puce color with trepidation. I had forgotten a vital thing: smell. Mouthwatering aroma of rind flesh was found wafting in the whole cupboard. This would not be pretty.

"…None of your freakishness! Worthless, good-for-nothing, stealing…" Every point was emphasized with another strike, slash or cut. He used anything, ranging from the usual fists, belt and knife, over blunt, heavy objects of all kind to the more unusual things best left unmentioned. They were in the basement, in a room Avis liked to call 'Torture Chamber', due to lack of imagination. It was purely out of concrete, had no furniture in it and was filled with tools of a sadist. The young boy was covered in bruises, cuts and blood, having received more than one broken bone. The man doing the hurting had just pressed a searing hot poke on the shoulder of Antonio, leaving nasty burns, when his stomach growled, announcing his displeasure, feeling the need to end his fun. Vernon, not one to deny his body, reached over the bloody lump in front of him and made a grab for his beloved rifle. Aiming carefully, squinting his eyes, he shot. That's when it happened. Steadily, as if in slow motion, the bullet shot forward, nearing its destination, the small head of a boy not yet six. Magic reared, not liking what it saw, not being able to do nothing, and the Elanû followed its lead. The bullet stopped midflight, never finding its target. Restraints burned away while Support did its job, healing the boy till scars were all that was left. Ignoring the slight aches Alexzandri stood up, supporting his weight on the wall, not quite trusting his legs for it yet. And, for the first time in a very long time he was angry. The fat bag of lard had dared to try and hurt him. Him, their family, slave for four years, their savior, because had Voldemort succeeded in dominating the Wizarding World, the muggles would have followed, ending in slavery and death. He was furious, and with him were his cores, would be 'till his death. The whole house shook, rattled in its place. Alarmed, Petunia and Dudley came running to the basement, thinking it safe, stumbling over a most terrifying sight, a most furious Potter, cackling with repressed energies. Vernon was pinned to the wall, unable to move. A flame the size of an orange was hovering over the hand of the four year old, not seeming to hurt him one bit. Slowly, predatorily, he moved to the hanging form of Dursley Sr. Threatening he held the fire to his family jewels, hissing in a dangerous voice: "This is it, no more Mr. Nice Guy! I've had enough, and now I'm in charge, and I'm going to be the one to order you around. If you dare to raise your hand against me even just once more, I'll fry your balls and make you an eunuch! My word is law. Do we have an understanding?" Vernon scoffed; he wouldn't be intimidated by this runt. That was until his pants got singed, getting dangerously close to unmentionable places.

Libertas knew now, he had been afraid. Afraid of becoming something like Tom, of becoming someone without humanity, mercy or good will. That had changed. Now he realized there was no way that he, savior and hero extraordinaire, could become inhuman. Couldn't as long as he kept everything he held precious close to heart. He had a soft heart, he knew it. Instead of a heart of steel, difficult to break and difficult to repair, he had a heart of weed, easy to get rid of, but always coming back, more persistent than last time. He had gotten strong, always standing back up, never staying down, and would continue to grow. A phoenix at heart. And the ashes gave birth to a new, more powerful him. He couldn't stay chained down for long, freedom was in his name.

From there on things changed rapidly. No longer was my room the cupboard under the stairs, but the old bedroom of Dudley, who got banished to his second bedroom, with all his toys, bar a laptop. The only chore Anima did was cooking an occasional dinner. His free time was spent in the library or outsides. Life was looking up.

While sitting on the extra soft mattress I had Vernon buy me I contemplated the happenings of my magic. It was now completely independent of me, doing what it wanted, mostly helping me with things or doing practical jokes, trying to get me to laugh. Their existence seemed to revolve around my needs, wants and wishes. It became a common occurrence to see the book I wanted to read fly to me, like summoned, when I just thought of it. Another thing, I taught it how to talk to me through the archway, which now had gate to its name, so that I could hear it even when not present, and they learned through that how to read my superficial thoughts. They became somewhat a mix of parent, lover (on a purely emotional level), and servant to me. Does that make me incestuous? My Elanû was starting to show signs of independence too, doing little things without my doing. Their speech lessons were coming along nicely, Air showed signs of becoming a future gossip. It is slightly terrifying to have so little control over the powers inside me, but I'm mollified with the thought that they are devout to me. They became a family to me, but I find myself wishing for the warmth and comfort of a human embrace. White tries to comfort me, but Black always gets mad when I think that. It reminds me of the overprotective father, having to give up his daughter to her boyfriend, I saw in TV once. That thought makes me feel warm.

All good things come to an end. Half a year went by without major events, and soon I would become six, only four months away, when it happened. April the eighth, a day that was going to come to haunt me in the future as well. Petunia learnt fast, never attempting to step out of her boundaries, only a sneer here and insult there, nothing serious. Dudley also needed only three or four demonstrations of power to understand. Vernon however had no such intelligence, needing to be kept down with constant effort. It so came that one evening he came into my room, dragging his son with him, crossing the space between us in three long strides, sitting on the edge of my bed and beginning to tell me how pretty I was, how I was going to like _it_, how it was my fault. He kept on rambling incoherently, not making much sense to me. I was starting to get scared, my magic not liking it, and Elec starting to cackle around me, trying to warn my uncle and scare him away. My anxiety gave in to full blown fear when he started to touch me, moving fast and pinning me under his weight and ripping of clothes. His touch was something I would remember till my death, never having felt something as disgusting. I'd rather bath in trollsnot than go through that again. As it so was, the cores liked that just as little as I and reacted accordingly. Vernon was dead before he knew it. Air got angry and a wind blade beheaded him. There was a lot of blood, drenching me. Dudley screamed. Petunia came running, still with knife in hand. Enraged at what she saw, she charged. Earth reacted, creating a wall of stone, and the woman, never having held a knife outside the kitchen, upon impact, because of the grip she had, impaled herself. The wall receded. There was a lot more blood. The cousin, terrified, squeaked, looking at me as if I was about to kill him. Oh wait, I _was_ going to kill him, it would not do to leave witnesses. Completely drenched in his parents blood, I strolled over to him, looking for the entire world to see like I had _not_ just killed one person and lead to the death of another. Gently, almost lovingly, I laid my hand on his forehead. Next thing you knew, he was on the floor, convulsing. A couple of thousand volt did that to you. After the death of my last living blood relative, I made my way down the stairs, not taking anything with me. Fire, sensing my worry, went ahead and set fire to the house. In less than an hour there would be nothing left but ashes of number 4 Privet Drive. The flames licked my flesh lovingly, not burning me. My clothing was less fortunate, getting singed in several places. That was alright with me, I would need it for my sob story to sound believable. Once outside I sneaked down the lanes of Surry, making sure not to be seen, before ducking in an ally and apperating to the middle of London, preparing for a long wait. I didn't expect them to go too much into detail, or check the truth of my statements, but one could never be too careful. So I waited, until it would be believable for me to be there, through muggle means. The Ministry of Magic.

1 Galleon - Currency in the wizarding world consists of three different coins. In decreasing order of value, they are: Galleon, Sickle and Knut. They are gold, silver, and bronze, respectively. There are seventeen Sickles in a Galleon, and twenty-nine Knuts in a Sickle, meaning there are four-hundred ninety-three Knuts to a Galleon. Around the edge of each coin is a series of numerals which represent a serial number belonging to the Goblin that cast the coin.

2 There were 7 races of Elves. There were the Umanatää, Electricityelves, also called Zizach in their own language, Zischü, Electricitytongue, who have power over mentioned element. Second were the Umanaaåå, Waterelves, also called Blantao, in their language Rontao, Watertongue, who have power over mentioned element. The Umanayase, Airelves are also called Fuføfan, in their language Jaføsa, Airtongue, who have power over mentioned element. One cannot forget the Umanamæe, Fireelves, also called Woughraw, in their language Woughlæn, Firetongue, who have power over mentioned element. There were Umanakon, Earthelves, also called Dohg'ss, in their language Bohg'ss, Earthtongue, who have power over mentioned element. Umanajø directly translates to Woodelves, who speak only Umanaü, and have healing and plant powers. Lastly the Umanava, Bloodelves, who also speak only the general language, and are also known as pureblooded Vampires, which in the Elvintongue means 'drinking blood', who have the power of telepathy. The last tounge is known as Quasinus, the sacred tongue, known mostly by priests.


	4. YM, Ch 3, Adoption

_**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J. and various publishers. I am in no way trying to make profit with it.**_

**Chapter 3, Adoption**

I found myself inside a telephone booth, pressing the buttons 62442 on the dial plate. A cool, female voice sounded out of nowhere, asking for name and business. "Avis Potter, I am seeking help." I replied truthfully. Receiving a badge stating 'Avis Potter, Seeking Help', I went on. Soon after, I found myself at the reception desk, putting on my best innocent act.

I asked the clerk in a sweet, timid voice: "Um, pretty lady, where should I go?" The woman looked at me, already charmed, and took in my appearance. Worried, she asked me: "What happened to you, dear?" I sniffled twice for effect, then put on a brave front. "I was at home, playing by myself, when it started burning, so I ran out of the house. My aunt told me that if something ever happened and she wasn't there I should come here, so after she didn't come out after an hour, I came here." At the end of my speech, my eyes were about to overflow, so I used the ashen sleeve of my shirt to furiously wipe them away.

Contrary to popular believe, I am good at acting, only in my former life I preferred to be truthful, and was honest to a fault. I had no such qualms this time around. "Well…" The employee stood up slightly and bend over her desk in order to see my badge, trying to find out my name. Shocked, she blurted out:"You are the Defender!" Inwardly I rolled my eyes, but outwardly I played the humble golden boy perfectly, at least I didn't have to live with stupid, hyphenated names this time around.

After five minutes of star struck awe, she finally was able to get herself together enough to bring me to the Minister.

"What is it? I have important matters to attend to!" snapped the minister. Fudge was at this time the same bumbling, self-important fool as he would be in the future. The clerk hesitantly tried to explain herself, but was ignored, until I decided to take action.

Taking a seemingly hesitant step forward, I asked the loud idiot timidly: "Are you the man my Aunt said to go to if anything ever happened to her?"

In a thoroughly calculated move, I clutched my shirt, rearranging it to reveal my rose scar through my tattered clothes.

His attitude made a hundred and eighty degree turn, as suddenly he was the kind, concerned, though still pompous, uncle. The many masks of a politician, not perfect in any stretch, but at least somehow competent.

Dismissing the secretary, he set me down on an uncomfortable couch, not there for comfort, but to impress, and made me tell him my life story, or what he thought was my story, and my consequent arrival here.

The way I knew Cornelius Fudge, now that his time in office wasn't threatened, he would pawn me off to the highest bidder.

In my rough calculations, the Top 10 richest families of Great Britain, from top to bottom were as followed: the Greengass', notoriously neutral, the Blacks, whose accounts were frozen, the Malfoys, whom would stands to gain much even if their master is not returned, would they adopt me, the Longbottoms, whose matriarch saw me, just as Severus, as the carbon copy of James Potter, who always outshined her son, and as such didn't like me, the Potters, whose accounts were also frozen until my coming of age, the Notts, who, like Lucius, would gain favor by having me, the Smiths, who might want me simply for the Potter inheritance, but are otherwise neutral, and probably wouldn't want to give up that anonymity, the Goldsteins, whom support the Ministry, and might get my custody simply for that, Snape, whom has the Prince inheritance, but wouldn't take me in even if you bribed him with rare potions ingredients, and, lastly, the McGonegalls, whom won't get me simply because of Minerva's connection to Dumbledore.

So I could go to the Malfoys, Notts or the Goldsteins. If Minister Fudge was smart, he would send me off to the Goldsteins, but he was greedy, so I was almost guaranteed to go to the Malfoys, who had the most assets. That wasn't ideal, but alright, I could work with that.

"I am sorry to say this, but we must assume that your aunt didn't survive the Fire. As such…" He couldn't say much more, as, at his words, I began sniffling again. It soon developed into full right bawling.

I bit my lip till it bled, and pretended for the pain to help me put myself together.

"I am sorry, sir, I shouldn't burden the Minister with my feelings."

"Right, right… Like I said, assuming that your aunt died, you will have to be adopted. Now, who to give you to?"

Taking a pinch of floo powder, he threw it into the fire in his lit fireplace and stuck his head into the now green flames. He repeated the action three times, before moving away from the fireplace, in order to make space for somebody else.

As expected, Lucius Malfoy stepped out of the fire, as regal and imposing as usual. Only taking his eyes off Minister Fudge in order to read and sign some documents, he overlooked me completely. Before long, his icy eyes landed on me, and with no infliction in his voice, aside from a sense of rightful superiority, he commanded me: "Come along, boy."

I played the nervous and intimidated boy to a tee. I even squeaked once, when he gave me a particular cold glance. That whole charade even held on after I stepped through the floo with the grace expected of me – that is to say, none at all.

"Essy!" With a pop, a house elf appeared. "Lead young mister Potter to the servants' quarters. He shall be living there from now. Use him however you need, and make sure that he doesn't get into the sight of the family."

Finally, I shed all pretence of being something I wasn't, and cleared my throat: "I think not, Mr. Malfoy."

He whirled around and studied me, for the first time seriously. What he saw surprised him. There stood not the frightened boy he briefly looked over before, but a confident one, one who wouldn't take the abuse planned for him.

That wouldn't do, wouldn't do at all. He stalked towards me, with the poise of an aristocrat and sneered down at me, his chilly eyes trying to pierce my self-esteem. When that didn't seem to work, he asked in his most menacing whisper: "And, why might that be?"

What I said next was answer enough: "_**I, Lord Black by proxy, invite the Malfoys back into the line, so that they may redeem their name, magic and be reunited with their head and master. May they repay their debt."**_

Though I had worded it as if the Malfoys had a choice, they really hadn't. Refusing would seem ungrateful, and make them fall further from the grace of their magic; potentially so much that they wouldn't be able to access it any longer.

Lucius looked furious and relieved at the same time. However, overshadowing those feelings were a tremendous worry; for himself, his family?

Just as he looked about to do something drastic, the hand not holding his cane twitching with the need to use his wand, I took the word, all the while sauntering by the soon to be former head of the house: "What are you going to do with that wand? Keep me prisoner? Only to have to let me go when my Hogwarts letter arrives? Stun me and have someone more proficient than you do a number of memory and compulsion charms? I doubt that. After all, the only one to be able to do that both competent and trustworthy enough in your little circle of friends would be one Severus Snape – who, might I remind you, lives right beneath Dumbledore's nose."

Throughout this speech, I had circled him in small, decisive steps, finally coming to a stop right in front of him.

Having said that, I strode, rather impressively for a five year old, to a love seat sitting in the floo-ing lounge, the room we were at the moment. In an impressive show of power, I allowed Earth to make me some steps to the furniture. He however didn't seem to realize this, too focused on his own frantic thoughts.

I climbed the three small steps to the soft cushions, and, after seating myself on them, made myself comfortable. The stairs receded back into the floor seamlessly, rippling like liquid. Soon, I was reclining on the love seat, studying the regal, usually calm man work himself into frenzy.

Growing bored quickly with this pastime, I lifted my left arm, revealing a relatively cheap wristwatch. In a languid motion I dropped the nail of my right hand's index finger on the glass protecting the display.

The quiet, sound, which usually wasn't loud enough to be heard over ones own thoughts, seemed to be surreally amplified, and echoed through the formal room with the high ceilings.

I could literally hear the snap when he tore his head up, focusing his gaze on me in under a second. For a moment, he seemed confused about how I got where I was now, having remembered me standing before him instants ago, before chasing away such thoughts.

One second went by with him just looking at me. Then, finally, he collected himself, asking pointedly: "And why, pray tell, should we accept this gracious invitation?"

I detected a hint of sarcasm in his tone, but didn't let it bother me. Fluidly I leaned forward, resting my head on my left hand. "You mean, aside from your fear of ending up like a squib?" I chuckled amused.

Seeing him stiffen up significantly, though never losing his poise, I smiled. It was not a nice smile, but rather one reminding of a cat that had caught a mouse, and wasn't sure if it should play a little with it, or eat it immediately.

"Or the fact that every even remotely old and competent family knows that you are a disgraced branch family?"

Lucius hand began twitching again.

"Ah, but Lucius, there are other benefits to reap. Not only are you looking at the soon to be richest wizard on earth, but also the most powerful one. Besides, I would have no trouble with allowing you to stay as acting head of the Malfoy estate.

Then there is also the fact that with me under your roof, making regular appearances on official events, your social standing would rise exceptionally, in both circles, if we play it right.

In about ten years, either I or my… godfather will make your status as reinstated into the Black family official. Until then, you will just have to be content with the full extent of your magic."

By this time the man I was talking to had slumped onto an arm chair situated in the wall opposite of the fireplace.

Tired, so very tired he looked, when he lifted his head from his hands, which were cradling his head only moments before. "The Lord, the Dark Lord! He will slaughter me, Narcissa, even Draco! I- I can't!"

I couldn't help but sigh. Sliding from the love seat in a fluid move, I silently, gracefully made my way to the distraught man, who had once again buried his face in his arms. I brushed my fingers in feathery touches over his hair, and, when he looked up at me, ceased the motion in order to cup his cheeks in my dainty hands. Connecting our eyes, I softened mine and rested our foreheads together.

"Not if I get to him first!" I whispered to him fiercely, with a conviction that seemed to shake the very foundations of the man he was.

He raised his hands, but seemed unsure of what to do with them. In the end, he rested them on my shoulders, a child's shoulders, and, in a desperate grab for safety, pleaded: "Prove it! Promise it!"

Somehow, I felt sad, indescribably sad and bittersweet. I didn't move to wipe away, or acknowledge, the single pearly tear that now stained my face. Taking a step back, I noted how Lucius, now frantic and hopeful, as well as a tad confused, looked at me.

Kneeling on one knee, I took his wand-hand, cradling it in my own pair of hands. Carefully, because I didn't want for him to be so far gone that he forgot to breathe, as I did, I took a sliver of Black, and pushed it through my right hand into his.

This was the first time I did this, and was unsure if this would work.

Lucius suddenly began screaming, first in pain, then in pleasure. I was so surprised; I forgot to bring up silencing wards. Thankfully, White had the foresight to do so without my prompting.

His hold on my hand got painful, and, not knowing what to do, I waited patiently. After another ten minutes, in which he moaned, screamed and whimpered, he finally went slack, having passed out. My magic, black as in my mindscape, oozed out of the wizard, and finally returned to my own reserves.

Unsure of how to proceed, I took a tiny amount of White, and told it, for lack of any other choice, as I didn't know any diagnostic spells, to tell me what was wrong with the pureblood, before pouring the magic, for some reason liquefied (maybe I thought of potions as I gave intent to the magic), into his mouth.

Before long, White gave me feedback. It seemed that Black didn't like the effect it had on other people (ecstasy, lust, possessiveness …) and on the spot decided to make the experience as 'memorable' as possible, by creating pain almost as bad as the cruciatus curse, giving internal damage.

At first I was furious! This could ruin everything! Now Lucius had a reason to decline the invitation without angering his magic! But then again, it wouldn't need much in order to make him change his mind. I had given him respect and fear, desire and awe. All that he needed now was assurance, an oath, maybe?

I turned the fallen man over, tactfully ignoring his moist crotch area, and let White cast an enervate charm on him. Lucius didn't burst awake explosively and uncoordinated, but simply opened his eyes, took in his situation, and waited for something to happen. It was kind of refreshing, actually.

I called upon Support, my invisible friend, and requested of it to heal the suffering man beneath me. Lucius, who was fully prepared to suffer through the pain till he got a hold on some potions, looked on with growing awe, as he literally felt his pain disappear, at seemingly only a glance of myself.

Once I was certain that there was nothing left to mend, I took two steps back, and ordered the man coldly: "Stand up."

He scrambled to obey. "You want promise? You want an oath? _**I, Avis Alexandri Anima Antonio Libertas Potter, swear on my blood and magic: I shall put an end to Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Voldemort's reign of terror." **_I told him firmly.

"That aside, I promise you that I will do everything in my power to protect what's mine. It is your choice if you take that offer."

Then and there, I smiled a true smile. Not one of happiness, or amusement, but one of confidence.

And he cried.

I never really took the time to imagine what my enemies felt, that time, in another life. Now I realized: I took the easy way out. I never tried thinking of my opponents as human or even living beings. They could just as well have been puppets, whose strings were held by an evil being. I tried to convince myself that they had n soul, and succeeded, for the most part. But kill them, I couldn't. No, what I did at the time was half assed at best.

This time, I was determined to understand all sides of the war that was coming. So I, at first hesitant, but then with more confidence, I stepped forward, and wrapped my arms around him, cradling his head to my chest.

And he told me, told me about his tyrannical father, his unfaithful mother, his stubborn magic, and how he was always afraid; about how he never wanted to join the dark lord, but how not joining him was even worse, told me about anything and everything that came to his mind, talked till he was out of breath, and admitted to even more.

And I finally began to understand: There was more to these people than just their actions.


End file.
